


It's When (Dean/Sam implied; ficlet)

by Nina36



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode: s06e09 Clap Your Hands If You Believe, Ficlet, Gen, M/M, Robo!Sam! - Freeform, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina36/pseuds/Nina36





	It's When (Dean/Sam implied; ficlet)

  
  
For a moment you almost forgot. It’s an empty road, sun shining, dust and grass mingling together in a familiar smell, cold beer in your hands and it’s like nothing has changed. In the past you would hand the cold beer to Sam, he would accept it, take it from your hands…and sometimes, him being the giant girl he sometimes is (was), his fingers would linger on yours, not long, but enough to tease, to…claim you.

 

You would drink your beer, in silence, as Sam would say something…or just breathe, next to you…and you’d be a peace, even for a few seconds.

For a moment you almost forgot the truth: everything looks the same, but it’s not, not really…and you realize that the smell is too dry and makes your throat sting, the sun is too bright …and Sam is not really Sam….he’s the dickbag who fucked another woman while you were taken,  the smell of sex pungent in the air in the room, when you got back, he’s the man who stood there and watched while you were turned and whose heart didn’t miss a beat …and you should have known then,  because you know that heartbeat, you’ve always known how it drummed in Sam’s chest when things happened.

For a moment you want to pretend, you want to forget that asshole’s smirk…his words ~I don’t really care about you…~, his hand on your thigh, how much you craved the contact, how wrong it felt when your fingers brushed…and the jolt it sent through your spine was different, it reminded you, even more, that your Sam is in hell…and sometimes you feel like you both are.

Alistair once told you, when you had picked up the razor, that there are different types of hell, of torture…that you could carve a soul until there was nothing left, just shreds, and get nothing…but a simple touch, a word, a sound could do the trick. “It worked like a charm on you, Dean…”

It’s true…so true.

He refuses the beer, lies to you…and for a moment, you want to pretend. For a moment…you want to forget…until the next brush of skin on skin, until the sun reflects on him and you see just the empty shell and you know it’s not a matter of ifs or hows…but whens.

Not…if you get Sam’s soul back.

Not…how will you get Sam’s soul back.

You’ll get your brother back…and his girly way to tease you, his crazed heartbeat, his skin on yours and you and him, together, on empty roads, drinking beer, enjoying the silence.

It’s when. Failure is not an option…you don’t care about how, you’ll crawl back in hell if necessary.


End file.
